One of those great coincidences that brings joy to my family's life is the close proximity of Traverse City, MI to the Interlochen Arts Camp where my daughter spends her music-filled summers. Before delivering her to camp this weekend, we enjoyed a couple of days in Traverse City, home to a lifestyle retail center housed in the former state asylum (creepy and yet very cool; trust me), renowned National Cherry Festival (sadly, not the season just yet), and (in)famous film festival (happily, well-timed for our return visit at the end of camp). This visit, we were able to take in a movie at the State Theater, which is closely aligned with the film festival. I love their tag line, 'Just Great Movies' -- it captures the paradoxical humble bravado of a small community theater (they 'just' show great movies) that regularly leads the nation's art houses in film receipts -- despite the fact that they compete against much larger demos in places like NY and LA (they JUST show great movies).
This is a perfect example of the 'constructive capitalism' that Umair Haque argues 'creates "thicker" value: value that's meaningful to humans — not just value that pumps up spreadsheets, computer models, and bonuses.' The State Theater exists to provide a unique value to its community (and through the film festival, that community extends to people like me who live far away): great movies yes, but also a great movie experience. Tremendous care is taken to provide with each screening an unparalleled movie experience at affordable ticket prices so that the entire community can participate. The seats are divinely comfortable, and are spaced well apart with plenty of leg room. You are provided an unobstructed view of the screen, even if someone tall is seated in front of you. The theater is cleaned quickly and efficiently between screenings. Professional projectionists ensure the film quality is nothing less than superior -- unblemished, gorgeous color, with great sound. It felt like a different medium entirely from what we have become accustomed to in movie theaters - small, cramped spaces with muddy sound and inconsistent film quality. The State experience was like discovering a new technology, although indeed we were rediscovering what film was meant to be, before my generation and well before my daughter's.
The experience felt so novel because the theater's ownership has opted for the 'thicker' value of bringing something meaningful to its community. The community validates this with their patronage. It matters to customers that their needs are honored, and that care has been taken to enhance their lives with an art form that is entertaining as well as challenging -- and all of this for about what you'd spend on a fast food meal.
The Great Depression witnessed a tremendous surge in movie ticket sales, since customers could pay an affordable price for a few hours of respite from their daily cares and hardship. During our current recession, the venues that are recording surges in patronage are community libraries, which now loan movies on DVD at no cost to members. It's not apparent that people can't spare the price of a movie ticket -- but they don't see the value of renting a DVD when they can get it from the library for free, and they realize even less value in visiting a metroplex to see a movie on the 'big screen' all the while being treated like the great unwashed the proprietors apparently assume to be their customers. That doesn't mean the community doesn't value seeing movies -- they just don't value what's on offer. If you're going out to a movie, it had better be an engaging experience or why bother?
I don't know how businesses can attempt to provide an engaging experience if their single purpose is to create value for themselves. At a time when stress and uncertainty impel many individuals to isolation and insularity, it is a profound experience to witness the opposite, in a business that seeks to bring just great movies to its community.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
You Say You Want a Revolution...
Umair Haque continues building his 'Case for Constructive Capitalism' in this post on the Harvard Business Review site. I enjoy reading not only his posts but also the commentary they generate. Since he argues for nothing less than a revolution, some are enraged, some energized. This is, after all, an HBR audience.
Until this morning, I had been thinking about this challenge strictly from a leadership perspective: how do the principles of Capitalism 2.0 change the way we think about strategy and the corporation's contributions to the world it creates (the work life of its employees) and influences (its customers and community)? I was struck today by a commenter who drew attention to the 'back-side where the change is made and the value lands.'
This is the nut of it. Capitalism 1.0, as cast by Haque, is the business mentality that created wealth destructively. Decisions were made in board rooms that enriched those within them, at the expense of the people outside them. Innovation that will create lasting and constructive value must surely break down the silo of the board room. To Haque's four pillars in his Smart Growth Manifesto I would add inclusiveness. Unless employees are included in this discussion, the outcomes, connections, people and creativity will be as self-serving as the last 'revolution.'
Until this morning, I had been thinking about this challenge strictly from a leadership perspective: how do the principles of Capitalism 2.0 change the way we think about strategy and the corporation's contributions to the world it creates (the work life of its employees) and influences (its customers and community)? I was struck today by a commenter who drew attention to the 'back-side where the change is made and the value lands.'
This is the nut of it. Capitalism 1.0, as cast by Haque, is the business mentality that created wealth destructively. Decisions were made in board rooms that enriched those within them, at the expense of the people outside them. Innovation that will create lasting and constructive value must surely break down the silo of the board room. To Haque's four pillars in his Smart Growth Manifesto I would add inclusiveness. Unless employees are included in this discussion, the outcomes, connections, people and creativity will be as self-serving as the last 'revolution.'
Monday, June 8, 2009
On profits and value
We watched Schindler's List last night with my daughter who was experiencing it for the first time. One of the movie's interesting yet subtle narrative arcs involves the transformation of Oskar Schindler as a businessman. Through the course of the movie, the character evolves from self-interest toward a deep understanding of the fundamental difference between profit and value. The strategy he undertakes to create value results in the dissolution of his business -- inevitable in any case, since it depended on Nazi war contracts -- but even more importantly of course it results in generations of lives that otherwise would not have enriched the world.
I find most striking that the film makers resisted the lazy path to this transformation, either by softening his self-interest in the beginning, or using the easy device of a conversion scene. Instead, what makes him a really good businessman enables him to become a good person. The character's singular strength, my husband pointed out to me, is his ability to read people. From the first scene in the nightclub, where he begins the evening an outsider and ends it owning every important Nazi business contact in the room, commences with him simply observing the players from his solitary table. Through the rest of the movie, he watches and analyzes every relationship around him. In the end, his amorality crumbles with the weight of his analysis, and he breaks through to understanding the difference between value and profit.
Of course the film is about much more than Oskar Schindler; it is really about the list, and the human lives both on and not on it, as the title makes clear. But in this story of one businessman, I cannot resist seeing an archetype of business' obligation to create value. We often hear that every business exists to create profit; that is, move cash in a zero sum transaction from one party to another. Someone loses; someone wins. Where is the lasting value in that? Yet, value and profit are not mutually exclusive:value can create more for you and more for me. For instance, as a customer of the press, I profit from reading the newspaper in print and online, and am happy to pay for it. I hope that the newspaper enjoys profitability so that it can continue to bring value to me and our democratic society that depends on a knowledgeable populace. The profitability of newspapers is now at risk, and we will see a transformation in the media as it seeks new models that support both the vision and the commercial requisites of funding independent journalism. Jettisoning the journalism and the independence could create short-term profits, but will destroy potential value to the customers, to society, and ultimately to the corporation.
Is any industry today not in need of transformation? Health care. Banking. Energy. Retail. Education. Housing. Transportation. Technology. Manufacturing. Is any industry not experiencing the rapid and chaotic winding-down of old models that no longer create value? Unlike Schindler we don't need the catalyst of a war; the widening gyre is manifest in every news report. We do need to attend to creating real value, for business owners, workers, and the societies in which they exist. I hope that leveraging talents well-suited to business will enable this transformation, as long as we confront honestly the reality that is not of our making, and which exists outside of the paradigms to which we are long accustomed.
I find most striking that the film makers resisted the lazy path to this transformation, either by softening his self-interest in the beginning, or using the easy device of a conversion scene. Instead, what makes him a really good businessman enables him to become a good person. The character's singular strength, my husband pointed out to me, is his ability to read people. From the first scene in the nightclub, where he begins the evening an outsider and ends it owning every important Nazi business contact in the room, commences with him simply observing the players from his solitary table. Through the rest of the movie, he watches and analyzes every relationship around him. In the end, his amorality crumbles with the weight of his analysis, and he breaks through to understanding the difference between value and profit.
Of course the film is about much more than Oskar Schindler; it is really about the list, and the human lives both on and not on it, as the title makes clear. But in this story of one businessman, I cannot resist seeing an archetype of business' obligation to create value. We often hear that every business exists to create profit; that is, move cash in a zero sum transaction from one party to another. Someone loses; someone wins. Where is the lasting value in that? Yet, value and profit are not mutually exclusive:value can create more for you and more for me. For instance, as a customer of the press, I profit from reading the newspaper in print and online, and am happy to pay for it. I hope that the newspaper enjoys profitability so that it can continue to bring value to me and our democratic society that depends on a knowledgeable populace. The profitability of newspapers is now at risk, and we will see a transformation in the media as it seeks new models that support both the vision and the commercial requisites of funding independent journalism. Jettisoning the journalism and the independence could create short-term profits, but will destroy potential value to the customers, to society, and ultimately to the corporation.
Is any industry today not in need of transformation? Health care. Banking. Energy. Retail. Education. Housing. Transportation. Technology. Manufacturing. Is any industry not experiencing the rapid and chaotic winding-down of old models that no longer create value? Unlike Schindler we don't need the catalyst of a war; the widening gyre is manifest in every news report. We do need to attend to creating real value, for business owners, workers, and the societies in which they exist. I hope that leveraging talents well-suited to business will enable this transformation, as long as we confront honestly the reality that is not of our making, and which exists outside of the paradigms to which we are long accustomed.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Watching Your Back (Not Looking Ahead)
Anand Ramand noted in a blog recently that one far-reaching consequence of the current economic disaster is the erosion of trust in supplier relationships. A single PO gone awry can easily damage trust that has built up over many successful transactions. Costs and trust are inversely proportional. This doesn't bode well for supply chains, and ultimately the consumers and economies dependent on the value created by them.
Years ago, a consultant from Ford's quality management team shared a story that speaks to the relationship between cost and trust. Ford and Mazda, new to their partnership at the time, were benchmarking their business processes. One obvious difference in their organizations was Accounts Payable: it appeared to be missing at Mazda. Ford, probably assuming a translation problem, asked again: how many people do you have reconciling invoices and entering vouchers and claims? Mazda replied that they didn't receive invoices and so didn't have a need to reconcile them. So how did they ensure that they didn't over-pay suppliers? Mazda gave as example a windshield supplier: every car has one windshield. We know how many cars leave the assembly line. Each one of them has to have an acceptable windshield. We just pay the supplier for as many windshields as cars that were produced; we send the payment electronically, so there's no handling.
That solution perfectly illustrates the cost benefits of trust in the supply chain. The supplier has to trust that Mazda is going to pay for every windshield that was used in the finished product and is going to report production accurately. Mazda receives a benefit from accurate reporting too, since the supplier must have accurate demand information in order to provide the right amount of windshields to keep the production line running. Both parties' costs are driven up if there is too much or too little raw material at the production line. The supplier has to eat the cost of every windshield that didn't leave in a finished car, even if the customer damaged the part during installation. (Realistically, this is no different from the more traditional process of invoicing and claims, however both parties save themselves the cost of personnel to handle the claims.) Mazda also has to trust that the supplier is providing the raw materials at a competitive cost, since the windshields are single sourced.
Fast-forward to 2009. Many if not most companies have made significant progress in creating tighter supply chain relationships built on trust. Inventories are much leaner, and companies are more vulnerable to cancellations or delays in purchase orders. Fearing a supplier's unreliability, companies start thinking they should diversify their sources. Decisions based on fear can unravel relationships and initiatives that previously enabled lowered costs and increased production.
The immediate reaction to fear is necessarily short-sighted: you become focused on overcoming a threat in the here-and-now. Caught up in the moment, it is easy to make decisions unmindful of long-term consequences. There's no question that managers have to make decisions to address current business objectives. But before taking an action that could substantially jeopardize the trust foundation of a relationship, it is equally important to consider what outcomes you want, and what is acceptable, for the business' long-term value and prosperity. Businesses need to remember that everything happens in the context of a relationship. Everything.
Years ago, a consultant from Ford's quality management team shared a story that speaks to the relationship between cost and trust. Ford and Mazda, new to their partnership at the time, were benchmarking their business processes. One obvious difference in their organizations was Accounts Payable: it appeared to be missing at Mazda. Ford, probably assuming a translation problem, asked again: how many people do you have reconciling invoices and entering vouchers and claims? Mazda replied that they didn't receive invoices and so didn't have a need to reconcile them. So how did they ensure that they didn't over-pay suppliers? Mazda gave as example a windshield supplier: every car has one windshield. We know how many cars leave the assembly line. Each one of them has to have an acceptable windshield. We just pay the supplier for as many windshields as cars that were produced; we send the payment electronically, so there's no handling.
That solution perfectly illustrates the cost benefits of trust in the supply chain. The supplier has to trust that Mazda is going to pay for every windshield that was used in the finished product and is going to report production accurately. Mazda receives a benefit from accurate reporting too, since the supplier must have accurate demand information in order to provide the right amount of windshields to keep the production line running. Both parties' costs are driven up if there is too much or too little raw material at the production line. The supplier has to eat the cost of every windshield that didn't leave in a finished car, even if the customer damaged the part during installation. (Realistically, this is no different from the more traditional process of invoicing and claims, however both parties save themselves the cost of personnel to handle the claims.) Mazda also has to trust that the supplier is providing the raw materials at a competitive cost, since the windshields are single sourced.
Fast-forward to 2009. Many if not most companies have made significant progress in creating tighter supply chain relationships built on trust. Inventories are much leaner, and companies are more vulnerable to cancellations or delays in purchase orders. Fearing a supplier's unreliability, companies start thinking they should diversify their sources. Decisions based on fear can unravel relationships and initiatives that previously enabled lowered costs and increased production.
The immediate reaction to fear is necessarily short-sighted: you become focused on overcoming a threat in the here-and-now. Caught up in the moment, it is easy to make decisions unmindful of long-term consequences. There's no question that managers have to make decisions to address current business objectives. But before taking an action that could substantially jeopardize the trust foundation of a relationship, it is equally important to consider what outcomes you want, and what is acceptable, for the business' long-term value and prosperity. Businesses need to remember that everything happens in the context of a relationship. Everything.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Reading the Fine Print
This article published today brings notice of the deepening enmeshment of mobile technology with the individual's touch points in society. Nothing particularly new, just noteworthy. Although I have been thinking for some time about the mobile phone as one's personal daemon, I was a bit shaken by this comment: "We want to make the cellphone the center of life" (Shim Gi-tae of SK Telecom). I take the comment at its face value, which is the more troubling aspect. I suppose we're headed toward the day when one's dying thought might be "I wish I'd had a better cell phone."
Rosabeth Moss Kanter questions the changing concept of privacy in this context:
more? Has being on public display all the time made
exhibitionism (teenage style) and self-directed exposure of personal information
(social network website style) preferable to privacy?
She says no - and imagines this will open up new business opportunities for devising means of opting out. I think she's a bit too fast with her answer.
The issue is that most people aren't really thinking about consequences (the terms of the deal); they're making trade-offs about which they simply are not conscious. When teenagers disclose too much online, they don't consider just how public the display is -- as evidenced by their outrage when they learn of parents watching the YouTube videos of their escapades. They think they're publishing to 'friends' (whatever that means in this commercialized age), and ignore the potential consequences when parents, the admissions officer at a university, or potential employer view their public displays. Although on-line teens can't claim they never heard the warnings, they choose to consider this the fine print that is too tiresome to read or even consider.
I've been advocating for mobile commerce for some time, so have to question my unease with its evolution. Mobile technology is facilitating grassroots business opportunities around the world, which is in turn empowering women from cultures in which they are long used to dependence and poverty. It's not whether mobile commerce can be put to good use, or even profitable use, that is at question. I think it's time to consider: what are the outcomes we want?
If we look at the catalysts for the current economic crisis, it's clear that societies and individuals benefited from the treats dangled in front of us, with no real consideration for the trade offs. It's no use claiming we didn't know what we were trading off; we just chose to ignore it. On paper, it was all good: people appeared to be house rich, and borrowed against the equity in their houses, using debt to fuel a higher standard of living. People thought they were living better lives, because of the stuff they had acquired -- and they conflated their lives with the stuff in their lives. People also saw the extreme wealth being generated for the titans of the banking and financial services industry, which was based on the housing bubble and the credit markets and clearly was not sustainable -- but like any gull, the public was distracted by the lure of shiny baubles. We could have benefited from a serious consideration of what outcomes we want -- for our society, for global relationships.
One outcome I hope for is enrichment of lives -- which requires a long horizon, and spills over national and cultural boundaries, as life does. Spending less time paying for a commercial transaction would support this outcome, but additionally we must examine the means being used, to ensure they are also consistent with enriching lives, not just bank accounts.
Rosabeth Moss Kanter questions the changing concept of privacy in this context:
Has the culture already changed so much thatpeople don't care about privacy any
more? Has being on public display all the time made
exhibitionism (teenage style) and self-directed exposure of personal information
(social network website style) preferable to privacy?
She says no - and imagines this will open up new business opportunities for devising means of opting out. I think she's a bit too fast with her answer.
The issue is that most people aren't really thinking about consequences (the terms of the deal); they're making trade-offs about which they simply are not conscious. When teenagers disclose too much online, they don't consider just how public the display is -- as evidenced by their outrage when they learn of parents watching the YouTube videos of their escapades. They think they're publishing to 'friends' (whatever that means in this commercialized age), and ignore the potential consequences when parents, the admissions officer at a university, or potential employer view their public displays. Although on-line teens can't claim they never heard the warnings, they choose to consider this the fine print that is too tiresome to read or even consider.
I've been advocating for mobile commerce for some time, so have to question my unease with its evolution. Mobile technology is facilitating grassroots business opportunities around the world, which is in turn empowering women from cultures in which they are long used to dependence and poverty. It's not whether mobile commerce can be put to good use, or even profitable use, that is at question. I think it's time to consider: what are the outcomes we want?
If we look at the catalysts for the current economic crisis, it's clear that societies and individuals benefited from the treats dangled in front of us, with no real consideration for the trade offs. It's no use claiming we didn't know what we were trading off; we just chose to ignore it. On paper, it was all good: people appeared to be house rich, and borrowed against the equity in their houses, using debt to fuel a higher standard of living. People thought they were living better lives, because of the stuff they had acquired -- and they conflated their lives with the stuff in their lives. People also saw the extreme wealth being generated for the titans of the banking and financial services industry, which was based on the housing bubble and the credit markets and clearly was not sustainable -- but like any gull, the public was distracted by the lure of shiny baubles. We could have benefited from a serious consideration of what outcomes we want -- for our society, for global relationships.
One outcome I hope for is enrichment of lives -- which requires a long horizon, and spills over national and cultural boundaries, as life does. Spending less time paying for a commercial transaction would support this outcome, but additionally we must examine the means being used, to ensure they are also consistent with enriching lives, not just bank accounts.
Monday, May 18, 2009
The Amazon Imprint
I bought a Kindle this year, and am still waiting for that magic moment when, I'm told, the device disappears and it's just you and the text. So I found this story more than mildly interesting.
I do understand that the e-book is still young in its development and that the designers had to make hard choices on what they could and could not do, but the choices themselves are telling. The first thing I really missed was the cover art. It's not just advertising to impel the customer to 'Pick ME!!!!' off the book store shelf. Once you have the book at home, it also reinforces the title and author, no matter which way you lay the book down. The first book I read (completely) on my Kindle was fascinating, but I have a terrible time remembering the title and author, since they were only listed on the device's index (not on the cover, not on the individual pages), and the title was too long to be fully represented. The Kindle does display a graphic image when you turn it off (alternating images of Western literary icons who have been oddly beautified) -- why could it not display an image of the cover art specific to the book you're reading? The fact that so little attention was given to the cover, and to displaying the title and author within the book, implies more than a lack of technological design.
More subliminally, the graphic design of the cover comes to represent the book in your mind. A re-issued book, with new cover design, is never quite the same book or reading experience that it was when you read the original. I have associations with the copy of Jane Eyre that I read as a teen, and they are indelibly linked with the design of that particular book. The copy we have in our home these days is somehow different, and somehow less engaging. The Spy Who Came in From the Cold conjures up the dark and moody cover art of the 1970s edition I read as much as it does my introduction to George Smiley.
And of course there's the issue of inner-page design (fonts, contrast between ink and page, and the tactile feel of the book), but these I can understand and with enough use I can probably get over it. I don't expect an exact replica of the book experience with an e-book. But, digital information about the book -- why is this a trade-off?
Perhaps some of the difficulty is just technical (the photographic images contained in an e-book are rendered so poorly that they I found archival images just impossible to interpret) -- but I think the issue is simpler than that. Amazon's needs have been served once you've purchased a book for your Kindle, so why bother? They aren't publishers; they're merchants. A merchant only cares that you buy a book - some book, any book -- and that the transaction works well enough that you return for future purchases. Publishers, though, need to engage the consumer with their brands -- and authors are integral to this -- so that you choose their books, not just any book. So titles and authors matter a lot -- if you can't come up with either when you're recommending a book to another consumer, or when you are browsing a bookstore, future sales are jeopardized. Amazon understands this when they are selling books: they have a great search engine, a fast site, and continue to enhance the experience of learning about a book before adding it to the cart. But once it's paid for -- well, they're done.
There's a lot to like about the idea of an e-book reader, more so than the reality today. To make this transformative is not just a matter of throwing more technology at it. If the merchant would make a fundamental shift to digital publisher, how they build the devices would change radically, perhaps enough to realize the potential that readers seek.
I do understand that the e-book is still young in its development and that the designers had to make hard choices on what they could and could not do, but the choices themselves are telling. The first thing I really missed was the cover art. It's not just advertising to impel the customer to 'Pick ME!!!!' off the book store shelf. Once you have the book at home, it also reinforces the title and author, no matter which way you lay the book down. The first book I read (completely) on my Kindle was fascinating, but I have a terrible time remembering the title and author, since they were only listed on the device's index (not on the cover, not on the individual pages), and the title was too long to be fully represented. The Kindle does display a graphic image when you turn it off (alternating images of Western literary icons who have been oddly beautified) -- why could it not display an image of the cover art specific to the book you're reading? The fact that so little attention was given to the cover, and to displaying the title and author within the book, implies more than a lack of technological design.
More subliminally, the graphic design of the cover comes to represent the book in your mind. A re-issued book, with new cover design, is never quite the same book or reading experience that it was when you read the original. I have associations with the copy of Jane Eyre that I read as a teen, and they are indelibly linked with the design of that particular book. The copy we have in our home these days is somehow different, and somehow less engaging. The Spy Who Came in From the Cold conjures up the dark and moody cover art of the 1970s edition I read as much as it does my introduction to George Smiley.
And of course there's the issue of inner-page design (fonts, contrast between ink and page, and the tactile feel of the book), but these I can understand and with enough use I can probably get over it. I don't expect an exact replica of the book experience with an e-book. But, digital information about the book -- why is this a trade-off?
Perhaps some of the difficulty is just technical (the photographic images contained in an e-book are rendered so poorly that they I found archival images just impossible to interpret) -- but I think the issue is simpler than that. Amazon's needs have been served once you've purchased a book for your Kindle, so why bother? They aren't publishers; they're merchants. A merchant only cares that you buy a book - some book, any book -- and that the transaction works well enough that you return for future purchases. Publishers, though, need to engage the consumer with their brands -- and authors are integral to this -- so that you choose their books, not just any book. So titles and authors matter a lot -- if you can't come up with either when you're recommending a book to another consumer, or when you are browsing a bookstore, future sales are jeopardized. Amazon understands this when they are selling books: they have a great search engine, a fast site, and continue to enhance the experience of learning about a book before adding it to the cart. But once it's paid for -- well, they're done.
There's a lot to like about the idea of an e-book reader, more so than the reality today. To make this transformative is not just a matter of throwing more technology at it. If the merchant would make a fundamental shift to digital publisher, how they build the devices would change radically, perhaps enough to realize the potential that readers seek.
Monday, May 11, 2009
If I Only Had A .....
The news last week that the US lost only 540,000 jobs in April was disturbing for a couple reasons. You had to read closely (and you had to read) to learn that the number was actually skewed lower by the creation of temporary jobs for census-taking -- excluding those jobs brings the total to the frightening levels above 600,000 in prior months. More obviously, the positive spin and market response indicated a deepening sense of desperation in the country. Is it really a good sign that almost 9% of our workforce is actively seeking employment because they have none? What of the news that including the under-employed and those who have given up their job search increases this percentage to 16%? And viewing the impact by race is simply horrifying - the unemployment rate for African Americans was 15%. Yet the media's spin that the economy seems to be failing at a slower rate was widely embraced.
OK - so people are looking for some reason to feel better, if they can't feel good. What's wrong with that? Unfortunately, saving the economy is not served by feeling good. That impulse leads to talk of recovery (getting back what you had) rather than renewal (making something new). As I read about business globally, the most radical and sustainable growth initiatives seem to be coming from developing economies, where recovery is not a consideration. Ethan Zuckerman's post on innovation earlier this year summarized rules for innovation in developing markets that would be well heeded in over-developed economies that are in desperate need of renewal. One of these is 'What you have matters more than what you lack.' As we see big business stretch out its hand to the American people relentlessly (and this week's news that the medical-industrial complex is signaling it's gearing up to do the same), I wish the market leaders in this country would internalize the fundamental intelligence in 'what you have matters more than what you lack.'
Trying to replace what was lost (what you lack) is self-defeating. If we learned nothing else, the country should have learned that the practices leading to the collapse were unsustainable. Trying to get back to those practices is more than harmful -- it is deadly. Yet, the impulse is profoundly human. I'm reminded of Jared Diamond's brilliant book Collapse: we are living out the same impulses that failed civilizations acted on to bring about their self-destruction.
Taking to heart Zuckerman's rules on innovation would renew any enterprise, and it is of a piece with the Ben Zander dictum to choose to live in a world of abundance rather than one of scarcity. It only takes a change in perspective: rather than think "All I have is a bicycle" think "I have a bicycle!" -- because that sets up the next crucial thought stream: "What can I do with that?" instead of "I need a truck and can't afford one." Thinking optimistic, happy thoughts is not the point ("whew - only 540,000 jobs lost!"); it's where you go with your thoughts. Do you open up possibility for renewal, or do you double down on moribund practices?
Recently, I stood on the dock of a distribution center, where the manager was leading a group discussion on increasing capacity 25% for planned growth. Construction and racking consultants had provided estimates for expansion within the same warehouse footprint. But, the group pointed out, we're still stuck with the same number of dock doors. This led to their thinking being stuck, because they couldn't get beyond what they lacked. "If only we had more bays ....." That discussion was taking us nowhere. So, we started talking about why that's a problem, and questioning the processes and schedules that made this a problem. In the end, embracing the number of dock doors in the facility enabled us to come up with a radically different process that would also increase productivity and throughput for all of its operations -- not just the new work resulting from growth. Persisting in getting what they lacked would have increased storage capacity, but would also have increased resource requirements -- which would be unsustainable. Getting what they lacked would doom their operation.
For most of us, our impact is admittedly small. But in the aggregate, the impact would be tremendous if we used this perspective daily in our businesses. And for the so-called titans of industry (or, masters of the universe -- pick your favorite hyperbolic euphemism), thinking small would be huge.
OK - so people are looking for some reason to feel better, if they can't feel good. What's wrong with that? Unfortunately, saving the economy is not served by feeling good. That impulse leads to talk of recovery (getting back what you had) rather than renewal (making something new). As I read about business globally, the most radical and sustainable growth initiatives seem to be coming from developing economies, where recovery is not a consideration. Ethan Zuckerman's post on innovation earlier this year summarized rules for innovation in developing markets that would be well heeded in over-developed economies that are in desperate need of renewal. One of these is 'What you have matters more than what you lack.' As we see big business stretch out its hand to the American people relentlessly (and this week's news that the medical-industrial complex is signaling it's gearing up to do the same), I wish the market leaders in this country would internalize the fundamental intelligence in 'what you have matters more than what you lack.'
Trying to replace what was lost (what you lack) is self-defeating. If we learned nothing else, the country should have learned that the practices leading to the collapse were unsustainable. Trying to get back to those practices is more than harmful -- it is deadly. Yet, the impulse is profoundly human. I'm reminded of Jared Diamond's brilliant book Collapse: we are living out the same impulses that failed civilizations acted on to bring about their self-destruction.
Taking to heart Zuckerman's rules on innovation would renew any enterprise, and it is of a piece with the Ben Zander dictum to choose to live in a world of abundance rather than one of scarcity. It only takes a change in perspective: rather than think "All I have is a bicycle" think "I have a bicycle!" -- because that sets up the next crucial thought stream: "What can I do with that?" instead of "I need a truck and can't afford one." Thinking optimistic, happy thoughts is not the point ("whew - only 540,000 jobs lost!"); it's where you go with your thoughts. Do you open up possibility for renewal, or do you double down on moribund practices?
Recently, I stood on the dock of a distribution center, where the manager was leading a group discussion on increasing capacity 25% for planned growth. Construction and racking consultants had provided estimates for expansion within the same warehouse footprint. But, the group pointed out, we're still stuck with the same number of dock doors. This led to their thinking being stuck, because they couldn't get beyond what they lacked. "If only we had more bays ....." That discussion was taking us nowhere. So, we started talking about why that's a problem, and questioning the processes and schedules that made this a problem. In the end, embracing the number of dock doors in the facility enabled us to come up with a radically different process that would also increase productivity and throughput for all of its operations -- not just the new work resulting from growth. Persisting in getting what they lacked would have increased storage capacity, but would also have increased resource requirements -- which would be unsustainable. Getting what they lacked would doom their operation.
For most of us, our impact is admittedly small. But in the aggregate, the impact would be tremendous if we used this perspective daily in our businesses. And for the so-called titans of industry (or, masters of the universe -- pick your favorite hyperbolic euphemism), thinking small would be huge.
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